Heal My Scars
by carsareawesome
Summary: Optimus has risen, but when Team Prime find someone after his crash-landing while leaving Earth, it changes everything. But the new Decepticons are closing in, and so are MECH, with a new leader, and this new war has the potential to destroy all that Optimus knows. Rated T for violence. MegaOp and MegaSound with hints of Megatron/Knock Out, Optimus/Arcee and Optimus/Elita-One.
1. Prologue

Hi, guys, this is my new story. I thought I might try romance, despite how much I usually hate it. In my opinion, romance has to be angsty or there really is no point. Oh well, you can ignore my rambling.

Enjoy, and review!

**Prologue: Optimus**

I had never really thought about how to describe this last year. Ever since I rose up from the Well of All Sparks, I had thought that we finally had peace. But, of course, nothing had ever been this easy. So much has happened since I returned, and if I had found a way to describe this period of time in one word, I would say it was like a dream.

Sometimes I online and I think that everything I had seen in this year was a figment of my imagination. Maybe it was. Because it seems too far from what should be the truth: that the Autobots and Decepticons are still at war, and everything was the way it should have been since the last few millennia. But then I realise that the memories are far too real, and far too solid, not mist-like and certainly without a dream quality to them, for them to not be real. And that makes it hurt even more, because if I can just believe that it had all been a dream, it would have been the loss of a simple longing, not the loss of something that had once been mine.

It was almost frightening to think that a war which only lasted one year could have done more damage to me, and terrified me, striking pain and fear into my spark, and had me more on edge than the millennia of war could ever have.

I guess that I could most definitely have been stronger, and less likely to fall apart if I had watched him die as an enemy and as a cause of his own evil ambitions rather than to watch him die as my sparkmate and love as a cause of my own faults and foolishness. But it was inevitable that this year-long war led to this death, because war will always have casualties. But I would have chosen any other alternate ending to this one which will only bring me sparkache and grief. I should have been relieved that he was no longer my enemy, but in the end, it only brought more pain and suffering on my part than it otherwise would have done, when everything drew to a close.

Sometimes I let myself go, and just watch the tears fall from my optics, because there is – and was – absolutely no way I could think about it, or dream about it without falling into pieces. It would have been much easier to declare this past year as a dream, something I fantasized about. But that would be far from the truth.

He has brought in the worst of me, because I have, for the first time, hidden myself away from my team mates, and away from the world, leaving just a scar, and a crack in my usually hardened countenance. They believe that I have let him go, but the truth is that I can never do that while I know that the death was a result of my carelessness and stupidity. And that was a high price to pay for my one act of foolishness. I could never repay the debt just by mourning.

And it seems almost ironic that of all the times he had been close to death, he had not died. He had always found a way to survive. But not this time. When he was at his most selfless, at his most willing to finally give up his spark for our, _my _good, he hadn't made it. It was almost ironic that of all the times I just wished he died, he stayed alive. And when I wanted him to online those beautiful crimson optics, and look me in the optics once again, he didn't. There's no way of me finding that beautiful form, no matter how broken and destroyed it is. There's simply nothing left for me to find.

I don't remember when I dream. But sometimes I online feeling so happy and so wistful – before I give way to tears because I know that I can't have those dreams anymore; they have been stolen from me like a thief in the night. It is like a blissful feeling has given way to something more painful and something that steals sobs from me, because I online feeling as though he's still there beside me, and that he'll comfort me whenever I feel so lonely and so hurt, but then I realise with a pang that he's not there, he's offline, and he's never coming back.

Sometimes I wake up screaming because my dreams are not full of happiness and seeing him there and alive; they are nightmares, and I see him before he deactivates all over again. And the feeling of knowing that I watched him leave me, makes me break down. Sometimes I almost scream. I have now secretly put soundproof walls within my room to avoid any concern or worried looks from the rest of my team. I don't need it. I don't need pity or words of comfort from anyone but him, and he's terminated. Pity and comfort makes me feel worse.

And right now, I'm trapped in one of those nightmares that means I cannot run and cannot hide, that I have to watch what is my greatest fear, and I'm screaming as I'm doing so, and I can't cycle any more air, and it's not until everything fades into black at which I finally online, and realise that I've broken again.

_The road ahead of me tore up, the dashed yellow line cracking and splitting underneath my wheels. I know now that the inevitable has come, and I'm crying and screaming at nothing, because I can't remember, and I can't feel, see or hear, because there is only one way I know that everything is going to be okay. And that means going forwards, towards the almost-destroyed road. _

_Debris hits the side of my passenger door, scratching the paintwork and gouging deep lines across my hood and windscreen. But I don't care. There is only one thing on my mind. I have to finally face it, and not be a coward, like I have been for the Great War between us. I can't lose something after I had just got it. It's that thought that spurs me on. I continue to drive, regardless of the number of .coms I'm getting; from Ratchet, from seemingly everyone, begging me to return, because I'm driving straight into the midst of danger, but I don't care; it simply feels so good to be here, wind whipping around me. _

_I almost forget where I am. I see the barbed wire, tangled and coiled with razor-sharp spikes jutting out at irregular intervals ahead of me, and I'm prepared to run straight through them, with no care or heed to the consequences. I almost like the new me – reckless and brash, everything he had taught me to be. In the midst of danger and almost death, you should die uncaring for yourself – noble and a selfless act of defiance. I like it. _

_I also see the building in front of me: tall, shapeless from the wind, mist and fog that is currently shrouding it. Not to mention the fact that my windscreen is cracked from the pieces of road that have smashed against it repeatedly, weakening the glass. I might have died, but I didn't. It is one of the advantages of being a Prime. But I don't see him. I don't see the bot that has risked almost everything to end this war – despite having loved war so much before. I don't see the sleek, beautiful jet streaking out from amongst the greying clouds, shooting everything down in its path. It is graceful yet deadly – a perfect combination of deceit. I don't see the streaked, angular lines coming down from its streamlined form, its perfect wings tilting both ways as it avoids everything that comes to it. I don't hear the familiar crack, as my jet breaks the sound barrier once again, defying all laws of nature with such a simple movement. It has always been natural to him, but impossible and a sight of awe to me. _

_I don't get to see much of the greyish building in front of me before it gives way to a streak of scarlet and orange, a blur of fire. Then I feel a searing hot pain on my side, and I flip clumsily through the air, crashing down onto the destroyed tarmac – but not for long. I'm only there, tasting the pain for about five seconds, when a secondary blast lifts me into the air – I've always hated being airborne with absolutely no control over my frame – and I'm thrown backwards into the sky, thinking that I've failed, and this is it – this is how I'm going to die. _

_Then my world spins like a top, and I'm thinking that maybe I'll see him in the Well of All Sparks, where we will finally be together, then I'm falling into blackness, and I feel nothing and see nothing, and I think nothing at all. _

My optics online so fast that anyone would have thought I was always there, watching them the whole time. I catch my breath, realising that I had been screaming, and let out a stifled sob. It isn't as bad as it normally is. I've had this dream so many times, but though it always hurts in the same way, I've learnt to control the stinging pain that ignites my spark.

I've had more nightmares than dreams lately, and I'm worried that if I have too many, I'll forget the times when he was by my side, and I was thinking that it was too good to be true. Of course, happiness never lasts. It gives way to sadness and fear, just like Primus did to Unicron. But because I'm so worried that I'll forget who he has become to me, I'll go back to when I finally rose out of the Well of All Sparks back to the present. And maybe, when I've remembered the whole story, it won't hurt as badly.

I'm just lying to myself really. It'll hurt more. But it would be worth it, making sure I don't forget, because I know that I never will be able to forgive myself if I do. I owe it to him really. I have to honour his memory.

My servos fumble clumsily on the side of my berth, and my digits clench gently around a piece of silver Seeker metal, taken from the wing. It is no longer shiny, sleek and streamlined; the explosion that had taken its owner had transformed it into a crumpled, scratched, dead, twisted metal that felt rough in my hands, so different from the wings that I had once fingered so delicately. But it was all I had managed to salvage from the wreckage. It is all that I had left, really. It is all that is left to prove that everything I saw, felt or heard in the past year was not a dream. That it is my reality.

And just in case I ever forget who he was to me, I tell my story, our story here, in words, though words could never represent the love I felt to him.

These are our words; this is our story.


	2. Part I, II

Note: I know, I know, the prologue wasn't very interesting at all, but I swear it's going to get better. The prologue was basically Optimus after everything in the story has happened, so it's kind of a spoiler, but not really. Another thing is that I have finally finished my exams, and I do NOT have to take a French retest (thank Primus), which means I can probably _try _to write more. Oh, and one more thing, Knock Out is still a Decepticon. I hate the fact that he betrayed Starscream and became an Autobot. Gives me yet another reason to hate _Deadlock_. And yes, Megatron is a Seeker in this one, as well as having a very different frame design than he has in the Prime continuity; I felt very inspired by Speedstreek360's All I Ever Wanted. But this story is made up completely from my imagination (and the no. of times I dream about Transformers).

Enjoy!

**Part I: Smokescreen**

It had been a year since there was any word from the Decepticons, a year since Megatron had deemed his own cause redundant and flown away, a year since Starscream was supposed to be crowned at Darkmount, but was supposedly attacked by Predaking and the other Predacons. I did not know the details. But it had been a year since Optimus Prime had sacrificed himself to become one with Primus, and no one had heard from him since.

This had caused divided opinions. Ratchet, like always, had wanted to obtain the best situation with the Autobots – passing on the role of leadership to Ultra Magnus, who was more than happy to take up the role – he had, after all, been second-in-command to Optimus back when the Great War was still raging on. Bumblebee had insisted that our leader would return, unable to accept that he may have gone forever. Wheeljack, though seemingly not much saddened by Optimus's sacrifice, had found the prospect of Ultra Magnus becoming leader an extremely unnerving prospect. Arcee had insisted that the Autobots should move on, so wisely following up on Optimus's own words telling her to forget about her past and focus on the future. Any other reactions were trivial.

Of course, I looked up to Optimus, and had wanted to join his side for years. I had never been an Autobot for very long alongside him, and now his spark had fallen to the Well of All Sparks. And, naturally, there was Megatron to think about. The Decepticon leader – or _former_, should I say – had abandoned the Decepticon cause, and left it to the likes of Starscream, who we had not heard about. Megatron had ignored Starscream's persuasion to rejoin the Decepticons – really, it was _so _unlike his usual treacherous self – and flown off to Primus knows where to apparently _punish _himself. It was hard to believe that was the case, although Optimus had once said that 'all sentient beings have the capacity for change'.

Ratchet had insisted that the 'bots should stay together even though there had been no Decepticon activity for a while now. He decreed that we needed to be one in order to prevent any more attacks on Earth – Decepticon or not. And Predaking, Skylynx and Darksteel had not yet been located and found. Predacons were superior to normal Cybertonians, so Primus knows what they would do to us if they ever had a reason to hunt us. After all, Megatron had used them to hunt us many times before, and we had only managed to get away narrowly. And Optimus had been there. Now he wasn't.

We had been reassured that he would go after Megatron first; the Decepticon leader had been one of the five who had agreed with the extermination of the Predacon race, the others being Starscream (who Predaking had dealt with, no one know how), Soundwave (who was in the Shadowzone), Knock Out (who had fled off and was still in hiding on Earth, yet had never really agreed to the extermination; really Starscream had come up with the idea of blaming it on us), and Shockwave (the creator of the race who had somehow deemed it logical for their extinction). But Megatron had flown off to unknown areas, on Earth or in space, no one knew.

"Hey Smokes," I onlined my optics to see Bumblebee nudging me. He had fallen into the Omega Lock after being shot three times by Megaton's fusion cannon. He had been resurrected by it, and stabbed Megatron straight through the spark with the Star Saber. We had given him a warrior's ceremony, and he was no longer a scout. Upon his resurrection, Bumblebee had been given his original voice back, a prospect he found extremely exciting. He still behaved like a sparkling at heart. Then Megatron had resurrected, too, which had greatly annoyed me. He did not deserve to live. Then again, Optimus would have insisted that he had changed – if he was here. It was all the Decepticons' fault, really. If they had not started the Great War, then Optimus would still be here, and there would never have been so many casualties.

"What's up, Bee?" I asked, using his nickname, as he used mine. He smiled back at me. "So the war's ended," I said, feeling a little hollow, because the mech I looked up to was offline.

"Yeah," he answered, looking down at his servos. "But I do wish that Optimus was here with us. I guess he must have had our reasons, flying off to become one with Primus. He's a… a mentor, I guess." Indeed, Optimus and Bumblebee had always had a close relationship, and Optimus had reacted most angrily when the former scout had been briefly killed by Megatron.

I smirked at him. "Come on," I teased. "It must have been closer than that!" My spark felt a little pang when I said the last sentence. Yes, Bumblebee did know Optimus much more than I did, and Optimus was to him what Alpha Trion was to Orion Pax. And I certainly looked up to Optimus a lot, even if he noticed Bumblebee more than me most of the time.

He shrugged. "Says Destiny's Child," he teased me back, making me bristle slightly. That had been Arcee's nickname for me, when I had wanted most of the attention and to be a hero back in the day. Actually, it was not a long time back. But I had glowed with pride when Optimus had told me that I deserved to be the next Prime, even if I refused to let him die. Before he left for the Well of All Sparks, he had told all of us that we all deserved to be Primes – even if I was sure he looked in my direction particularly.

"Hey!" I protested. "You know I got over 'being the hero', or whatever it was that Arcee said." I remembered the day that she had told me this, and I had decided that maybe I wasn't ready to be an Autobot. Then I was captured by Decepticons. Ever since then, I had kept a lower profile, happy to be one of the Autobots. I was no Wheeljack. I almost pitied the Wrecker, being chased in outer space by Dreadwing, then arriving on Earth to find that his best friend was part of Team Prime – something he still held a grudge against.

He grinned at me. Everyone had become more relaxed since the war ended. "Yeah," he said. "I know you did."

I heard the sound of a motorbike, and Arcee pulled up, making sure Jack had dismounted before transforming. Yes, the humans were still here, because they were now a part of our family, and we couldn't leave them behind. It was hard for them to adjust back to what Miko called 'normal life' and not have to kick Decepticon afts every day. But, as Ratchet said, it was important to stick together. "Hey," I said. "You're back early."

She sighed at me, as if I was deliberately being stupid. "Did Ratchet not .com you about a meeting he was supposed to have?"

I shook my helm. "Nope. I don't have anything." I checked my .com link again. "Then again, you were on patrol and I was here, so yeah, maybe he only told you because you weren't at the base."

Arcee raised an optic ridge. "I am so amazed with your levels of deductive reasoning." She examined her digits. "Right. Apparently, Ratchet picked up a signal."

I motioned vaguely with my servos. "And?"

She glared at me. "I wasn't finished yet, Smokescreen. Don't interrupt me."

"Yes Ma'am," I teased her.

She glared at me some more. "Okay. It was an unknown signal. We've never read it before." Arcee looked panicked, which was really unusual for the motorcycle. "Ratchet said he'll fill us in when he gets back."

"A 'Con signal?" I asked, feeling dread but a little excitement. Was the war starting again.

She didn't say anything at first. "I don't know," she said, "But if it really is, I don't know how we can fight it as well as we did with…" she didn't finish.

"With Optimus," I finished for her, and she inclined her head slightly, offlining her optics. They had always been close, too, especially when they had been stranded in the Artic together. I guess Arcee had feelings for him, but she had never told him. "I know that you still miss him, despite how much you want us to move on."

"Yeah," she said, examining her digits again. "But we need to move on. I know that's what Optimus would want." She didn't say anything for a while, and we were sitting in awkward silence, Jack and Bumblebee staying silent. Arcee made to stand up, but I stopped her.

"Look, Arcee," I said, my servo resting on her shoulderplates, which was quite hard, considering that she was 10ft shorter than me. "I'm sorry that you never got to tell him-"

She suddenly knocked my servo aside, optics blazing like liquid fire. "DON'T get started down that path, Smokescreen," she said, lipplates pressed together. "I don't need pity from anyone. And I'm pretty sure you miss Optimus as much as any of us. Don't try to _play the hero _and comfort me, okay, because I'm NOT the damsel in distress. Got that?" She swept past me, ducking underneath my still-outstretched arm and disappearing off into the darkness.

Jack made an attempt to explain. "She hasn't been herself recently. You should… cut her some slack. Arcee just… well, she lost two partners already, and now Optimus… well, you can say she hasn't been the in the best of shape recently." He sighed, and followed behind her, muttering, "I'll try to comfort her before Ratchet gets here," as he went.

I bit my lipplate and looked at Bumblebee. "I was being tactless again, wasn't I?" He shook his head as Raf came down the corridor, still looking over his shoulder.

"Arcee didn't seem too happy back there," he said, looking curiously at us. "And neither did Jack. Did you two do something wrong?" I sighed, looking at the former scout from the corner of my optics. "No," I said. "_I _was being tactless, and talking about- well, I shouldn't mention it, not when it's within her audio range."

Raf shook his head at both of us and did his best to climb up next to Bumblebee. "Ratchet should be coming back soon," he said. "He was busy checking his sensors to make sure they weren't faulty."

"Yeah," I said. "Arcee mentioned it before… well, before she lost it."

I heard some clanking, and Bulkhead trooped down the same corridor, with Miko almost scampering at his heels. "Hey!" she puffed, struggling to keep up. "Slow down! I can't keep up with you." When she reached us, she collapsed on a heap on the floor, and I could see Raf struggling not to laugh.

"Sorry," Bulkhead said, but not very apologetically. I looked over at Miko. "If you want to catch up with him, you should wear the Apex Armour all the time." I paused. "Then you wouldn't be able to fit in the corridor." I sniggered at this, and she glared at me.

"Right," she said, struggling to keep her cool. "And if you want to get beaten up any time soon, don't forget to tell me."

I grinned back at her. "You forgot who kicked Starscream out of the Armour first with the Phase Shifter," I said cheekily, making her scowl at me.

"Oh, ha ha, so funny."

The noise of a car reached my audios, and an ambulance came tearing down the tunnel – well as fast as it could go. It transformed into Ratchet. His blue optics swept over all of us. "Where's Arcee and Jack?" he asked, moodily. "I asked them to come back from patrol ages ago."

"Yeah," I said. "They're back there." I stabbed a digit in their direction, just as the motorcycle came stomping down the corridor, despite being so light. "I heard the disturbance," she said, then pursed her lipplates at me.

"Ah," said Ratchet. "I see that there has been some disagreement."

"You might say that," Arcee said, still glaring at me. Ultra Magnus and Wheeljack transformed behind the medic, the latter not looking very happy to be with his 'commander'. They had never really got on very well at all.

Ratchet walked over to the screen. "We've picked up a signal recently." He paused. "I have managed to identify it – sort of." He swallowed. "And… and I don't understand how this could happen, but-"

I looked up. "Is it 'Con activity again?" I asked, almost eager to fight the Decepticons again, especially that stiletto heeled creep, Starscream. Arcee flicked her optics in my direction. "Here goes Destiny's Child with his 'being the hero' act," she said dryly, making me huff. "You know I got over that. Just because I said-"

"Enough!" yelled Ratchet. "We are not here to watch some petty disagreement-"

Arcee stood up. "It was _not _just a petty disagreement," she said. "Smokescreen was being a-"

"Yeah, whatever," the medic continued. "I don't need to hear about this right now. We are talking about the signal, and you two are talking over me. Smokescreen, let me continue. Arcee, stop aggravating him. It's not going to get anywhere." He sighed. "Right, about this signal."

"Yes?" Arcee asked rather impatiently.

Ratchet looked back at the screen. "That's what I don't understand. The signal came from the Well of All Sparks – the last time we saw it – and… and the signal… well, I think that it is Optimus."

**Part II: Optimus**

I didn't feel much. Just snatches of colour. I remembered that I had sacrificed myself to become one with Primus. I imagined that I was in the Well of All Sparks now; the Pit was bound to feel worse than this. It almost felt like I was floating, except that everything around me was black, and I was shrouded in darkness. When I looked down at myself, I was a glowing red orb. Around me, I could see other orbs, all of different colours, not many as bright as mine.

I wasn't sure what to feel. Happy? Relieved? The burden of war had been lifted off my back, and Megatron had left the Decepticon cause – hopefully, for good – I really wasn't sure that he'd keep his promise; he was the leader of the _Decepticons_. Then again, he could have attacked us after Unicron's spirit had left his mind, but he didn't. I was the one who believed that all sentient beings had the capacity for change.

Drifting, floating – that was my life now. It was peaceful, with no signs of violent disturbance; I no longer saw the outside world. Everything I heard was my own thoughts, my own memories, pictures that did not quite link up with one another. Flashes of violent conflict. War. A raging battle for humanity. And throughout it all, a sleek, violently-disturbed Seeker with Dark Energon embedded in his spark. But, despite being very similar to his second-in-command, he was nothing at all like Starscream. He was a mixture of deadly, beautiful grace both on the ground and in the air. Selfish, conceited. Arrogant.

Did I care? I wasn't sure. A long time ago, I might have done; back when I had thought that there was some hope that he would change. I had wanted him to change, _tried. _But it seemed pretty futile in them. He seemed to mentally unstable to veer from his own twisted ambitions, a twisted will to domineer and to rule. To eradicate the weak, the humans. Megatron.

But despite everything, I might have loved it, deep down, now at peace with myself, I was admitting, that I loved everything that I shouldn't. But of course he would not care about me; since when had he cared for any other being other than himself. My immediate thoughts drifted to Soundwave. Of course, he had known me when I was still Orion Pax, when rivalry and jealously did not conflict with each other and force us apart. Of course, back then, I probably loved him, though I might not have known myself. I might have known; an unidentified feeling. The thought twisted inside my spark, pulling me apart. Soundwave was possibly the closest thing that Megatron had to a friend; the one he trusted the most, the one who never failed him, the loyal, devoted soldier who had stood by his side for millennia… But was he ever _just _a soldier. The thought sickened me; if he had ever been someone other than a soldier, a warrior, loyal… But Soundwave was in the Shadowzone now.

I looked into the darkness. There was nothing there, like there had always been. I didn't know what I was looking for. Proof? Comfort? What did I seek? I wondered if my team had made it out okay. Team Prime, the Autobots; whatever name you wanted to give them. I wondered if they were managing without me. Of course, Arcee would take it hard; she always seemed to understand, I guess you could say we were close. Bumblebee, who saw me as I saw my mentor, Alpha Trion. Smokescreen, who had admired the Autobots from afar, who had always wanted to meet me. Ratchet, my old friend, and Ultra Magnus, my SIC on Cybertron. And so many more. The humans.

Blinding light. I onlined my optics. I didn't understand. Light did not exist here, in the Well of All Sparks. Where was I? I raised a servo, and I saw it, my digits, curling over to shield me from the glare. I had a frame. I had a form. What had happened? Where was I? I looked up, straight into the blinding glare.

"Fate has surely taken you out of the Well," it said, and up to this day, I could not recall the tonality of the voice; it just _spoke_. "The interlinking lines of fate have surely contributed to your rising. You have been destined for many things, Orion Pax, Optimus Prime. You will follow the path time will give you, and maybe, you will find what you have always desired."

I looked back down. There was no floor. What was the meaning? Was it something to do with what I had thought before? What did I want?

"I can see your thoughts, your innermost secrets. I know what you want. And since you want it so badly, I will give it to you. But, remember this, Optimus Prime, everything good will always end. And it will hurt more than you expected it to. Every gift Primus gives must have an enemy: Unicron. And this gift you are given will always have a price to pay." I guess that whoever had spoken had always known what would happen, that the price I had to pay was one that would scar me for life.

Then all was a flash. Everything was gone. I spun, and suddenly there was a floor. I onlined my optics, and found that I could. I looked up, and I saw the sky. _Impossible, _I thought. I still did not understand. I recognised the place where I was. The last place where I stood and told the Autobots 'till all are one. I was at the Hydrax Plateau, where I had done battle with Unicron. This was the place where I had sacrificed myself.

I was alive.


	3. Part III, IV

Note: Yes, there are other pairings that are in this story, but really, I just make up the details as I go along. My favourite kind!

Warning: some violence and blood

Thank you for the reviews! Enjoy, and uh, please review!

**Part III: Arcee**

I stared at him. Impossible. It was impossible. Was this Ratchet's idea of a funny joke or what? I shook my helm. No, Ratchet did not make jokes. Not one as serious as this. This could only mean his so-called _deductive _reasoning was wrong. My helm jerks up so fast that Jack looks alarmed, but I don't care. "NO!" I screeched, flinging down my sevos furiously, in an out-of -control rage. "Your sensors are FAULTY! You have NO deductive reasoning!"

Smokescreen was not making it any better. "Arcee," he said, catching hold of one of my arms. "Calm down. Just control yourself-"

Furious, I turned to face him. "I can't calm down! I can't JUST control myself! He says that Optimus is alive, and if I believe it, and he's not, what effect do you THINK it will have on my spark!? I am not going to accept it if it's a false hope, because, yeah, I miss him, and if he's not coming back, this is just GOING TO MAKE IT HARDER!" My voice slowly rose in pitch, as I stormed out of the room, not caring if I left Jack behind.

It was only when I reached my quarters that the tears fell.

I had cared for Optimus, _loved _him, I guess, but I had never admitted it to him; I had told myself that it could wait, that it would only create difficulty in the war, maybe even awkward tension. I didn't want to do that to him. Optimus was so strong, so perfect, a leader, brave, worthy of everything good, and _he _was the one who had perished for good. How was it fair? What about Starscream, the treacherous Decepticon who had betrayed virtually everyone? What about Megatron, almost the root of all evil, the one who had started the war that claimed millions of sparks and destroyed our planet? What about them? Why did it have to be _Optimus _who had to offline? Why?

I continued to cry, coolant falling from my optics onto my berth, as I sat there, alone in the darkness. The door opened. I immediately covered up my sobs and rolled over, face down, on the berth, feeling weak and pathetic. "I heard it, Arcee," Jack said; I would know his voice from anywhere, since I was his guardian. "Don't cover it up, please? You don't have to act strong all the time. It's fine to... let yourself go."

"Yeah, but you're not a warrior, are you?" I asked, my faceplates still buried in the berth. My vocaliser was feeling a little stuffy and unused. He had no answer at first, just changed the topic.

"I know you cared about him, Arcee," he said. "It's not much of a secret to everyone else that you know... you loved him." I sighed, finally turning to face him, silently praising Primus that coolant dried up faster than human tears.

"I know it wasn't," I replied. "I didn't make it much of a secret after he... offlined." The last word choked in my mouthplates, and I gasped to take another cycle of air. "Jack, I know you'll at least _try _to understand," I said. "You know, I don't want to have a false hope. I don't want to get there, and then find out that I've been a fool for even believing he was still alive in the first place, when I find out he's still gone. It'll hurt more."

Jack looked at me, scrutinising my faceplates. "Come on 'Cee," he said, using my nickname. "You need to try. Try and be brave. You know what he'll say to you."

I looked at the floor. "I won't know what he'd have said to me because he's gone, and it's all the 'Cons's fault, jumped-up losers they are-"

"Arcee," he said. "Try. Just try. For me, and for Optimus. Please?" Jack looked up at me, and I couldn't stand it if I dragged him into the same depression that held me now. It was my misery that I was trapped in, and it wasn't right if he was there too. As angry as I was with Megatron and the Decepticons, I needed to go.

I swallowed. Hard. "Okay, Jack. I'll do it for our team." I smiled at him through the coolant, brushing them away roughly with one servo. "I'm coming. I don't want the others to see me like this, so I'll be there in a while. Okay?"

"You got it, 'Cee," he told me, and left the room slowly, looking much happier, as though he thought I was alright. I was far from that. My insides were doing an internal battle, balancing both outcomes and seeing which would hurt the most: not trying, or trying and discovering that everything had been futile. Sighing, I wiped my faceplates again, and stood, my peds shaking. Man, Ratchet would not be happy to see me after that episode.

I tried to walk in as gracefully and as strong as possible. Really, no one apart from Jack would have noticed my meltdown... unless he had told them. "You okay, Arcee?" asked Smokescreen, who had always been a little concerned for me.

"I'm fine, kid," I said, reserving my harsher, strict and curt tone, since I was pretty annoyed. It was quite surprising how fast one emotion could give way to another in such a short amount of time. "Jack convinced me to go. I figured that I would do it for us. But, I swear, if it's a Con trick, I won't mess around. I'll tear them limb from limb."

He seemed taken aback at my words. "Er- right," he said, looking around nervously. _Why _he was still nervous around only me was still a mystery to me, though I suspected, not so much to everyone else. "Shall we go now?"

Bumblebee leaned over and poked him. "You don't seem so eager, oh admirer of Optimus Prime," he teased, which was fine in itself, but it almost made the coolant well up in my optics again. Smokescreen shot me a nervous look. Again. _Why? _

Ratchet sighed. "The humans can come, although Miko should take the Apex Armour just in case it indeed is a Decepticon trick." He shot a glance at me, probably remembering my threats if the Cons were messing around. "But otherwise, it should be relatively safe." Then he looked at June Darby and Agent Fowler. "Er- Do you guys want to come too?"

June shrugged. "Sure. William and I would be happy to come. Just as long as you don't put my son in danger again."

I looked sideways at Jack, who looked revolted that they were on first-name terms, then he scowled. "I've been in much more danger than you have, mom," he protested. "Me, Miko and Raf put Soundwave, the _third-in-command, _in the Shadowzone. I'm sure we can handle this."

June pursed her lips and looked at him. "Firstly, it's Miko, Raf and _I_," she said, correcting his grammar. "Secondly, as I'm thrilled that you put a Con in some other dimension, I don't think you should go charging into battle. Miko is absolutely fine, as she has the Apex Armour, but _you _need to stay out of the battle." Jack sighed, and looked at me.

Seriously, I wondered why I was the one who had to sort out family problems when I had obviously got emotional stress to deal with. But I guess June did not really know much about Cybertronian emotions. "Listen to your mother, Jack," I said. He sighed, and glared at me.

Ratchet swallowed. In a tight voice, he said, "Autobots, transform and roll out." I knew that it reminded him of Optimus. It reminded me too. But I shut out all emotions from my drives. _You don't want them to see you like this, _I told myself. I took one last look at the base, and with Jack riding on me, I revved up my engines and drove smoothly down the tunnel, into whatever fate lay beyond.

When we reached the Hydrax Plateau, it was dark. Yes, we had been driving round for hours, trying to find the battle site, and with the _Jackhammer _currently down and not functional, our only option was to drive until we found it. It was pitch-black, and my well-trained optics could barely make out a thing. I screeched to a stop, creating a cloud of dust, and let Jack dismount before transforming. Carefully, I started to approach the middle of the Plateau, where the Well of All Sparks had been, and where Optimus had sacrificed himself.

I still saw nothing. "Optimus!" I screamed, my voice both desperate and pleading. Man, if the Decepticons really were here, it might have been funny for them to see me in such a desperate state. But we'll see what was funny if I managed to get my servos on them. There was a slight rumble behind me, and I had no time to turn round. I flinched, expecting a blow. Nothing came.

Ratchet placed his servo on my shoulderplates. "Arcee," he said. "Stop making so much noise. If it's really a trap then they know we're here."

I brushed his servo away impatiently. "If it's a trap, then they _already _know we're here, Ratchet. Whether I yell or not won't make the slightest difference." My faceplates grew one shade darker. "And if the slaggers are here, they will wish that they never came when I tear them apart!" I continued fiercely.

The medic looked a little wary of me now. "I know it's been hard on you, but please, don't-"

I spun round to glare at him. "Please WHAT, Ratchet?" I demanded, making no effort to lower my voice. I almost felt sorry for him, standing there, quelled by my look, since I was 10ft shorter than he. But Ratchet seemed to know how I felt because he didn't interrupt my rant, which he would usually do. I guess the loss of Optimus had hit him pretty hard too. "I told myself over and over that he was really here, that he was coming back. And you promised. You PROMISED!" My voice echoed across the Plateau, and Ratchet winced.

"I didn't promise, Arcee," he said comfortingly, "I said that you need to come in _case _he was here, because I'm sure he would want to see you. And Jack agrees with me too. It was worth the risk."

I gritted my dentae. "No, Ratchet, was it 'worth the risk' to risk breaking my spark _again_?" I demanded, flinging his servo away from my shoulderplates again. When he tried to answer, I interrupted him. "Maybe for you, but it just _hurts _all the more! Do you have _any idea _what it feels like to lose…" my voice broke.

"The one you love?" Smokescreen finished for me, trying to help, but all it really did was to infuriate me all the more.

"Shut UP, Smokescreen!" I shrieked. "YOU don't know what it feels like, do you? You never had to lose so many bots in your life that you care about, but I did. Like Tailgate. Cliffjumper. Now Optimus. Does that mean anything to you?!"

He took an automatic step back as if I had punched him with words. I breathed in, hard, trying to control my fury. Ratchet looked uneasily at me. "We know how much you have suffered, Arcee," he told me, trying to be comforting and practical at the same time. That was Ratchet for you. "But we have all lost Optimus. And that was a while ago."

I huffed, steaming that nobody understood. "Yes, Ratchet," I said calmly. "But WHO said I have gotten over the death in 'that while ago'?" I demanded, my voice rising in volume.

"Um, nobody, Arcee," Ratchet amended, and I somehow cooled down. I wanted to apologize. But somehow, I could not find the words.

"So," Smokescreen asked cautiously. "_Is _it a Decepticon trick?"

Somehow, that riled me up. "It better not be," I said. "Or those Cons will be very sorry that they were sparked."

"I don't think they would show their faceplates after the Predacons are on their trail," Ultra Magnus said with so much authority that Wheeljack looked like he wanted to slap his commander.

"What makes _you _so sure, _leader_?" Wheeljack mocked. He still followed Wrecker code. I once remember saying to him that his problem wasn't with Magnus, that it was with Bulkhead. But I guess he was still very insistent about who his actual problem was with. Ultra Magnus frowned and started to say something.

"There is absolutely _no _point bickering about whether it is Decepticon activity or not," Ratchet said. "We need to find out whether Optimus is here or not. Then we can argue whether Starscream is behind this."

"But he's supposed to be offline, or scrapped by Predacons," Bulkhead said, looking confused. _Again_.

"See, Bulk's right," Wheeljack said, smirking now. "It's not Starscream then, and not Soundwave, who's in the Shadowzone. Breakdown's offline, Airachnid's apparently on Cybertron's deserted moon, Knock Out's too much of a _coward_ to pull this off, which leaves…"

"Megatron," said Bumblebee, almost angrily.

"But he _did _say the Decepticon cause is over," Bulkhead muttered.

"Yeah, but who _actually _believes _Megatron, _Bulk?" Wheeljack asked again, the broad smirk still on his faceplates.

"Um, I think that Bulkhead's right," Ratchet said, looking at something in the distance.

"What, that this is _not _Megatron's fault?" Wheeljack demanded incredulously. "What makes _you _so sure, Ratchet?"

Ratchet grinned. "Look behind you."

And as he and the rest of us turned round, I saw a figure that could change everything, and finally take me out of my depression. It was Optimus Prime.

**Part IV: Starscream**

"Aah!" I screamed again and again as the electrified energon whip came down on my wings and spinal strut. Pain exploded in the back of my mind and through my pain receptors. I was vaguely aware that my data log was recording a mass amount of errors, warning lights flashing on and off. But I didn't see them. In some dazed, pain-struck vision of my optics, I could take in the crazily amount of energon in a pool underneath my near-limp form. There was a screeching, ringing sound in my audios, and it had taken me a minute to realise that was from my screams. My wings were a shattered mess, one of them torn off, and lying crumpled in the corner; I could see it in my peripheral vision. The jagged edge stung, and I could no longer feel the objects that meant the most to any Seeker. Without our wings, we were nothing. I could not feel the number of sensors in my other wing; they had been crushed and mangled, and a few were hanging loosely from the torn wing plating. Energon dripped steadily out of the wounds.

I had not taken enough time to check my other wounds; but I was pretty sure that my entire frame was covered in them, dents, scrapes, scratches and jagged holes in me that slowly drained my life away.

The Predacon above me sneered, his mouth curled in a half-snarl over my limp, motionless form. I could imagine it well enough, though I was lying faceplates-down, and the only thing I could see was the floor. My energon seeped into my optics, and I struggled to see, frantically trying to clear them. It was a sight that I had seen many times. At first, I had been determined not to give in, but as time wore on and days bled into weeks, and weeks bled into months, I had lost my willpower and my strength. I had become a shivering, shaking wreck of my former glory.

The pain dulled, and I gasped, almost in relief, though it was still there, and in more than one place on my wrecked frame. Preda_king_, I almost sneered myself at the name he had called himself drew himself back upright, and his peds shifted on the ground. I heard a booming laugh among the fizzling static in my audios. "You simply brought this upon yourself," he said, jeering. He was unsympathetic, callous, and cruel, looking down at my mangled frame and my jerky attempts to get free. "Your vile treatment of _my _frame brought this torture upon you. I am a Predacon, and we are superior to all Cybertronians." He laughed again. "Then, you were one of those who plotted to exterminate the rest of my race. You paid dearly for that."

I tried to show no fear. "There is much more that you can pay for, but of course, you wouldn't understand it, _beast_," I sneered.

There was a split second's silence. Then the Predacon above me roared. "I AM NO BEAST!" He brought his ped down hard against my spinal strut, and I was certain I heard something crack. I screamed, the sound twisting out of my vocaliser. I was then aware of sobbing. I tried to hold it back in, the choking sobs that burst out of my mouthplates, but it seemed to gratify the Predacon. "You will learn obedience, Seeker," he told me viciously. I felt a clawed servo turn me over, and the digits lightly trace my neck-cables, to my vocaliser, teasing.

"Oh, how I'd love to rip out your precious vocaliser," he said, sneering again. "But I love to hear your screams more." He laughed sadistically, and I felt hate course through my energon lines. I tried to suppress a shudder, but it was hard, looking up into those glowing golden optics, and that _huge _frame. Was this how the Autobot scout, Bumblebee, felt? I imagined a life without my voice. But how could I have a life? Predaking was never going to let me go, and nobody was coming for me. I was going to stay in this prison for the rest of my life, wishing that I had never been sparked.

Predaking was still speaking. "But, though I cannot do so, I can do _this_!" His sharp claws raked down my throat, choking me. Energon gurgled down my neck, the wound so severe that I was certain I was going to die. Except that the Predacon would not let me die. I was an excellent plaything. Or so I was told. I felt the hot, wet liquid run down my chestplating. It was thick and viscous, and an eerie green in colour. I felt tears run down my cheeks. _Help! _I was begging mentally, screaming for someone to save me. Except that nobody was coming. The energon dripped off my limp frame, dripping onto the ground and adding to the pool I was already lying in. I had no strength to move, and I could only lie there, holding back the severed screams and sobs that I was certain would burst out of my vocaliser.

Another laugh. "Oh, so this is how you are going to play it, is it?" he asked me, and through my haze of pain and tears, I could see him scrutinising my faceplates, searching for something that I did not know. "Well, Seeker, I am going to make you scream, but as you are so annoyingly stubborn..." He let it hang there for a minute, and I felt fury course through me. How dare this vile beast hurt such a creature of the sky? How dare such an unruly monster mess with those who were more intelligent and more superior than _it_?

He brutally kicked my side, and I felt pain explode across it. More warning lights blared in my data drives, but I ignored them. They repeatedly said 'Error!', but there was nothing I could do about it. I was at the mercy of the Predacon. Even Megatron would never have hurt me as much as this beast did. He always found a way to let me off, and I felt as though I almost missed him... well, I would miss anyone compared to this beast. Maybe except from Soundwave.

The silent Decepticon, Megatron's loyal _lapdog_, was in the Shadowzone now. At least it would be a welcome relief from the horrors that I had to face, or the justice the Autobots would bring. I could laugh. Soundwave had always be the one that sucked up to our master, the one who 'did nothing wrong', but look where he ended up now. In a different dimension with almost no hope of coming back. Then there was Shockwave, who was in hiding somewhere. _Wise, and _logical_, _I thought, annoyed. And then, Airachnid, who had met fate on Cybertron's deserted moon, as a Terrorcon, thanks to Soundwave. All three of them. I hated them all. Along with the Predacon.

I remembered arriving at Darkmount to crown myself as the new Decepticon leader after Megatron deserted us all. But then, the Predacons had turned up, and I had found myself greatly outnumbered. Before I knew anything, I was being dragged to a small cell, and barricaded in, with a coded numeric keypad, and no hope of getting out.

And here I was.

I shifted back to the present, and the Predacon was looming over me. I was stubbornly refusing to address him by his designation because to me, he was inferior, nothing but lower dirt. Soundwave would know plenty about superiority. I smirked a little at this. Everyone was inferior to _him,_ except Megatron. That annoyed me too. The beast saw my smirk. The Predacon roared, infuriated by my lack of screaming and being a begging coward.

_Shame. _I turned my helm away from him, so that I was now looking at the wall. The last thing I needed was an angry Predacon in the same cell as me. I felt a large servo grip the side of my helm, and yank it back so that I was facing him. I tried to jerk my helm away.

It growled viciously and dug the claws into the side of my head. I screamed again, though I was sure my vocaliser was worn from my screams. The Predacon laughed. "And _that _was what I was looking for, Seeker."

I knew that this 'session' would not yet be over, not until I had passed out. So there was still some more to go. _Please go unconscious. _But I knew my resilient mind would not obey. I liked that word. I would not give in. Ever.

"Well," I said, setting my jaw. "You're not going to get anymore."

It roared again. "How dare you question my authority and my superiority!"

The smirk was clear on my ruined faceplates. "It wasn't me _questioning _your authority, beast," I said smugly. "I don't need to question. It is a statement of my superiority over you."

It lashed out, and I tasted blood in my mouthplates. A jagged cut was on my cheek, energon running down my faceplates. But I was beyond caring now.

I looked up at him, wild. "Is that all you got?" I shrieked, testing his limit.

That was the moment when I felt his servo grip my chestplates tightly. I felt hot energon trickle down my side, and I almost gasp. I bit my glossa, holding it in. "I said that you would learn obedience, Seeker," he said, his voice deep and rumbling. With a pang, it reminded me of Megatron. But I knew enough to know that I would never see or hear from him again.

"And what if I don't?" I ask, unfazed by the murderous glare in his optics.

I felt the claws rake into my side, and his other servo pressed on my chestplates, directly over my sparkchamber. "Then you will face more pain."

"And if I welcome it?"

He was infuriated now; I could almost feel his energon boiling. I suppressed a laugh. "Then you will face deactivation."

This time, I laughed out loud, openly, right in his faceplates. I felt the fear drain away. So he _was _going to offline me after all. It would be a welcome relief, an escape from this harsh world. "And don't you know, beast," I said, blatantly defying it, "that if you had a processor and logic circuits of a low-class Cybertronian," I really was heaping up the insults now, and I felt the anger stir in the Predacon, "you would realise that deactivation would be an escape from just about... everything." I laughed again, in his faceplates.

"You will feel more pain than ever," it said. "You will wish you had never been sparked."

I looked the Predacon right in the optics, holding contact with it. "I have already wished that I have never been sparked, and that was before I met you."

I felt his claws dig into the metal of my frame, and I stifled a cry. It was not that hard to feel numb after so many months of constant agony. Nothing he ever did would make a difference to how my spark hurt now.

The Predacon jerked its servo sideways, tearing open my sparkchamber. He carelessly threw the fragile piece of metal across the cell, blind to the noises it made as it clanked onto the floor. Fresh energon flowed from the torn edges to the inside of my spark, and I gasped as I felt the should-be hot liquid become cold against my life-force. At this moment, I embraced deactivation, and I should. No more pain.

Predaking held my spark in his servo, fingering my life-essence. It was so amazing that with one squeeze, I would be gone from this world. I knew that when I would wake up, the torture would start again. Unless I never woke up. "How fragile your spark feels when it is beating against my digits," it teased.

I ignored it, trying to remember how Soundwave had deactivated himself before becoming online again by Laserbeak's doing. Meanwhile, his razor-sharp digit traced the edges of my spark, fingering it. The glowing orb was shining, the only bright light in this cell. I imagined it going black. Not that I would see it when it would happen; I would already be offline, and free. Free to fly. I was a Seeker. I was sparked to fly. And I had no freedom in this cell. If offlining meant freedom, I was happy to go down that path.

"You have no idea," I said.

The Predacon lightly squeezed my spark, and I tasted energon in my mouthplates, the world was spinning dizzily around me, and I could take note of a few disjoined images: the pool of energon underneath my frame; my mangled wing and sparkchamber cover in the corner; the Predacon's sneering faceplates above me; the amount of alerts I was getting about my poor condition. And then, all of a sudden, I was sinking through the floor, with no means of escaping. I saw the dark hole open up to swallow me whole, and I embraced it, feeling all pain escape me, and letting myself fall into oblivion.

**A/N: It really broke my spark, writing about Starscream in such a bad way. :-( And that's the third (well, second) chapter. I hope that you enjoyed it, and that the length made up for the wait. Please review, and I will be very grateful. ;-)**


End file.
